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  He wasn’t one of Andrés’ men…he was just your average, everyday drunk.

  “Hola, chica, ¿quieres una compañía?”

  Him she could handle. She had plenty of experience dealing with drunks in New York City. “I don’t speak Spanish,” she lied, moving to brush past him. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. She rotated her hand until her palm was in front of her face, which proceeded to bend his arm at an unnatural angle. Keeping her elbows close to her side, she grabbed his hand and twisted her hips, throwing him completely off balance. He stumbled before tumbling to the concrete like a felled tree. The entire sequence lasted only two seconds.

  He blinked up at her in a drunken haze. “Que pasó?”

  She leaned over him. “I’ll tell you what happened…you messed with the wrong chica, bub.”

  “Americano?”

  She straightened abruptly. Crap. She didn’t need to draw attention to herself. If word got around that an American woman had felled a drunk, it might bring Andrés and his troops to investigate. She shook her head. “Non. Français.” She glanced around the area, distressed to discover the little scene had drawn a crowd of curious onlookers. Tugging the scarf more firmly around her head, she hurried around the downed man and picked up her steps.

  She had no idea where she was headed. Eyes followed her as she rushed down the street. She’d made a serious error engaging the inebriated man. She should’ve just walked away.

  The once-blue sky faded to black as the sun set and dusk descended. She passed another boutique selling clothing and ducked inside, a bell tinkling as she entered. She needed to change outfits again. Bare light bulbs on strings dangled from the ceiling, some sizzling, others blinking on the verge of going out. The atmosphere was dim and an overall scent of mold filled the air. Still, the shelves were stocked with fashionable clothing in an array of colors and sizes. She found a floppy straw hat and unmemorable blue sundress. She changed in the dressing room again, making sure the pouch where she kept her money and passport was hidden and secured. She folded her old clothes and piled them on the bench as she left the cubicle to pay. An old woman with gray hair pulled into a bun stared at her accusingly from behind the counter. Her face was leathery and wrinkled, her lips curved into a frown. She didn’t look like she smiled often. Harlow thought about asking her for a recommendation of a place to stay, but quickly dismissed it. She had no doubt the woman would sing like a canary if questioned.

  She handed her the tags and the cash. The woman rang up the purchase and handed back the change. The cost of all the clothing was quickly adding up. With a nod to the woman, who didn’t acknowledge the gesture, she strolled out of the store. She checked both ways, happy to realize there were no lurking kidnappers waiting to nab her.

  Keeping her head down, she kept walking until she came upon a hotel. She almost wept when she recognized the name of a major chain. The building was tall, twelve stories or so, and though it was old, it had been modernized. The red brick sported silver accents around the windows and a revolving door that led to the lobby.

  She hurried inside and stood in line to check in. Large potted plants were situated in several areas and a three-tiered fountain dripped water to a wishing pond below. Marble tiled floors, overstuffed chairs and lighting pieces that were more art than function decorated the space.

  As unobviously as possible, she hiked up her dress, which wasn’t a big deal since she still wore the shorts, and withdrew cash from her hidden pouch. When the man in front of her picked up his bag from the floor and strolled off, she sidled up to the counter. A college-aged woman with brown eyes and long, dark hair smiled brightly.

  “Welcome to La Grande. My name is Maria. How can I assist you this evening?”

  “I would like a room please.”

  “No problem.” The woman tapped at a computer. “Just you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many nights will you be staying with us.”

  “One.”

  “It looks like I have a single with a queen bed available. Will that work?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I will get you signed in. What is your name?”

  She opened her mouth, intending to give the name of her favorite television detective, Olivia Benson. Olivia was tough and strong and fearless. Harlow needed some of those qualities right now. But what if Andrés scoured hotels for a single American woman checking in? He’d have her. Her hair was covered with the hat and she kept the sunglasses on that she purchased in the boutique. She told the drunk accoster that she was French, so she ran with it. “Emma Chauvet.”

  “Emma, that is a beautiful name. How will you be paying for your room, Emma?”

  “Cash.”

  “Excellent.” Maria gave her the total and she paid the bill and signed her fake name to the receipt. “If you would like to stay longer, just give me a call and I will take care of the details.”

  She didn’t want to spend a moment longer in Coslos than necessary. “Thank you, Maria, I’ll do that.” She added a bit of a French lilt to her words.

  “Here is the key to your room.” Maria must have noticed her surprise at the old-fashioned key instead of a more contemporary card that most hotels used nowadays. “The hotel has been modernized but we kept some of the charming details. The elevator is right over there.” Maria smiled sunnily and then moved on to the next customer in line.

  Harlow gripped the key in her hand and felt awkward heading to her room with no luggage. An older couple had already pushed the button for the elevator, so she stood behind them to wait. The woman turned to her and smiled. She smiled briefly before looking away. She didn’t want to engage anyone in unnecessary conversation.

  “My name is Martha, and this is my husband, Harold. We are so excited to be in Coslos, aren’t we, Harold?”

  Harlow almost groaned as Harold nodded. Apparently, Martha hadn’t picked up on her ‘don’t talk to me’ vibes.

  “It’s our fortieth wedding anniversary.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Oh my, what a lovely accent. Are you French?”

  “Oui.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful, Harold. We’re from England but our daughter studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.”

  “Ah.” Where the hell was the elevator?

  “We visited her many times. Such a beautiful country.” Martha proceeded to name all the landmarks and restaurants they visited on their several trips, which lasted the entire ride up to her room on the ninth floor. Thankfully, Harold and Martha were on twelve, so she jumped out as soon as the doors swished open and cut Martha off mid-sentence.

  “It was lovely to meet you both. Happy anniversary. Enjoy your stay.” With a wave, she scurried out of sight before Martha could follow her down the hall to continue with her monologue.

  By the time she found her room, slid the key in the lock and entered, her entire body wilted to the point her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. The adrenaline spike of being on the run crashed and she felt limp and drained. She fell face down on the bed.

  Chapter Three

  Zoe Duquesne surreptitiously checked her phone for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. Her sister Harlow’s plane had landed in Coslos hours ago. Why hadn’t she called?

  Zoe had felt a vague sense of unease all day. She’d gone to her classes and talked with her friends, but a sense of foreboding hung over her head. She wanted to chalk it up to worrying about her older sister travelling to a foreign country, but she was afraid it was more than that. It wasn’t until she realized the time that she really started to worry. Harlow wanted to help underprivileged children and Zoe thought that was very noble. As more time passed, she checked the plane schedule online during lunch and it had landed safely, but her phone stayed scarily silent.

  Her sister lived in one of the largest, diverse cities in the world and Zoe didn’t worry about her…well, that wasn’t true. She always worried about her. But she also knew Harlow could take care of herself. Even th
ough she didn’t have Secret Service protection, she was careful and cautious and knew how to defend herself. But she was flying to a foreign land where they didn’t even speak English as the first language.

  It was a burden to be the only person in the family who knew where she was right now. If something happened to her, no one would know where to look. She understood Harlow’s caution in telling their parents—they would’ve talked her out of going—but responsibility weighed heavily on her small shoulders.

  Zoe kept her phone hidden and the ringer set to vibrate so her teachers couldn’t see it. The rules were strict at her private school. Teachers had been known to confiscate phones. If they took hers, she’d have no way to get in touch with her sister. When it was time to change classes, she ducked into the bathroom and dialed the cell Harlow purchased for the trip. Relief washed over her when it was answered.

  “Qué?”

  Zoe gasped. That wasn’t her sister. Why was a man answering Harlow’s phone? In Spanish? Had it been stolen?

  “Quién es?”

  Zoe disconnected, her heart hammering. That sense of foreboding was screaming in her ears. Something had happened to her sister. She couldn’t tell her parents. They had no idea Harlow had left the country. She could tell her Secret Service detail, but they would make a big deal out of it, a potential international incident. A light bulb went off in her head. She knew just who to call. She punched in a quick text and waited.

  #

  Kai Costa’s watch beeped with an incoming text. He was supposed to turn his phone off in class, but sometimes…okay, always…he fudged the rules. He glanced at the message and his eyes bugged. It was from his friend Zoe Duquesne. He’d rescued Zoe when he witnessed her being abducted by a child molester. It wasn’t strange that she was texting him since they kept in touch. What was worrisome was the message. It simply said: Extreme 911. That meant it was a level one emergency.

  Carefully sliding his phone out of his backpack, he jammed it in his sock and pulled his jeans cuff over it to cover it. He raised his hand.

  “Yes, Kai?”

  “May I be excused to the bathroom, Ms. Anderson? My stomach doesn’t feel so good.” He held his tummy and grimaced to emphasize his statement.

  “Sure. Come get a pass.”

  He hurried up and snagged the hall pass and then rushed out the door, ignoring the worried glance from his friend Tiffany Mullins.

  He ran to the end of the hall to the less-used bathroom and pushed the door open, happy to find it empty. He hurried to a stall and whipped out his phone. Zoe answered on the first ring.

  “Zoe? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my sister, Harlow.”

  “Oh, no. What happened?”

  “She went on a humanitarian trip to Coslos in South America. She was supposed to call me as soon as the plane landed. That was hours ago. I haven’t heard from her.”

  “Maybe she forgot.”

  “Harlow doesn’t forget. I called her phone and some man answered in Spanish. He sounded mean.”

  “Maybe her phone was stolen.”

  “I thought about that, too, but she still would’ve found a way to call me. I checked and the plane landed hours ago with no problems. I’m worried, Kai. This isn’t like her.”

  Kai wasn’t sure what they could do from here. He’d barely heard of the country. He knew how important it was to Zoe to keep it quiet. He’d witnessed firsthand the media circus that went along with members of the First Family. It’d been overwhelming a few weeks ago when they emerged from the woods.

  He needed to get home so he could talk to Sawyer Oldham. Sawyer was supposed to be home today from Colorado and he knew Harlow. He’d know what to do in this situation.

  “I’ll talk to Sawyer Oldham. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Wait, Kai, no. I’m not supposed to tell anyone about Harlow’s trip.”

  “How are we going to help her if we don’t tell someone? It’s not like we can fly there ourselves.”

  Zoe sighed. “I guess you’re right. But, Kai, please don’t tell anyone else. I don’t want to get my sister in trouble.”

  “Promise. And don’t worry. Sawyer will know what to do.”

  “Okay. I trust him. He cares about Harlow.”

  “I’ll call you back soon.”

  Kai disconnected and then stuck his head out, glancing both ways before stepping into the hall. Thankfully he didn’t have any after-school activities today, but it would be another two hours before the van arrived to pick up all the COBRA Securities kids. He could call his dad. He’d understand. Kai had the coolest dad on the planet. But it would take time before he could get here and he needed to talk to Sawyer as soon as possible.

  A noise had Kai jerking to a stop, his head tilting to the side. Tinkling laughter. A beautiful melody. He knew that sound and it was the answer to his problems. His girlfriend, Lauren Dianetti!

  He rushed forward and threw his arms around her. “Lauren. What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Kai.” She hugged him back and his eyes closed in happiness. She smelled so good! “We’re going around to the different schools and dropping off the materials for the presentation on bullying next week.”

  Lauren had established a club or council or committee…he wasn’t sure what it was officially called…that visited schools to talk to kids about the dangers of bullying and encouraging ones who were being bullied to speak up. Maybe he was biased, but he thought she was amazing.

  She was wearing a pink sweater and blue jeans, and her long blond hair was pulled back from her face with a black band. Small diamond earrings her father had given her winked from her ears. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. He sighed.

  “Kai?”

  He shook his head. “Hum? What did you say?”

  “I asked why you’re out of class.”

  He snapped out of his Lauren-induced trance. “Uh, I’m not feeling well.” He crossed his fingers behind his back. He hated lying, especially to his girlfriend. “Can you take me home?”

  She looked at him with concern and placed a hand against his forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “Stomach issues.” He grimaced.

  “Ah. Okay, I’ll run you home.”

  “I need to get my backpack and let Ms. Anderson know.” He raced to the classroom and explained to the teacher that he needed to leave. She didn’t even question him, and he felt guilty for deceiving her, but desperate times, and all that.

  A hand grabbed his arm on the way out. “Kai, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m okay, Tiff. Just an upset stomach. Bad peanut butter or something. No big deal, promise. Lauren is driving me home. Can you let my grandfather know?”

  “Sure.”

  Several people took turns driving the COBRA Securities van that picked up and dropped off kids to school. Today it was his stepmom Taylor’s dad doing the driving. He would be worried when Kai didn’t show up and he hated that, but this was important. Though they weren’t related by blood, both of Taylor’s parents treated him like they were, and he adored them right back.

  He raced back to Lauren and slid to a stop, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Ready, Kai?”

  He nodded, not taking his gaze from the tall, dark haired boy in a letterman’s jacket standing close…too close…to Lauren. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Darren came with me. He’s helping give the talk next week.”

  Kai’s eyes were mere slits now. Darren was the captain of the football team. The All-State quarterback being recruited by all the big-name colleges. Lauren was the head cheerleader. Did Darren know Lauren was Kai’s girlfriend?

  “I know who you are,” Darren said, as if reading his thoughts.

  Kai stood straighter. Good. He did know Lauren was his.

  “You’re the kid that saved the president’s granddaughter.”

  “I sure am—oh, yeah, I am.”

  Darren clutched his shoulder. “You’re amazing.”
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br />   “Thanks,” Kai muttered. Darn it, he made it hard to dislike him, even if the guy was like two times taller than him. He hated being a shrimp.

  Lauren had the authorization to sign him out, so after they left the administrative offices, Kai raced to her red Jeep and slid into the passenger seat. He heard Darren chuckle but ignored it. It was his right as the boyfriend to sit next to his beloved. It was written somewhere, he was sure of it.

  “Kai,” Lauren said in a warning voice.

  “Firsties,” he argued.

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “You know the rule, Kai.”

  “Lauren!” Blood flooded his cheeks. Come-on, he was ten years old. Certainly old enough to ride in the front seat. She was making him look like a baby in front of the quarterback of the top ranked team in the state.

  She was unmoving. “Kai.”

  He huffed and opened the door. “Fine.” He hopped out and reluctantly climbed in back. Lauren smiled at him as she slid behind the wheel and he instantly forgave her. He smiled back.

  “So, Kai, I hear you’re a pretty good athlete, too. Do you plan on playing football in high school?”

  Kai’s cheeks heated again. How could he tell the best football player in the state that his parents wouldn’t let him play the sport? They thought it was too dangerous. At this point, he might as well pull on a diaper and whip out a binky. He looked like a big old baby.

  “Kai is the best player on the soccer team,” Lauren told Darren. “They practice at the same time, so he couldn’t play both.” She glanced at him in the rear-view mirror and winked.

  His sweetie was defending him! She knew his mom and dad wouldn’t let him play, which was doubly embarrassing since her dad had been an NFL superstar. He sighed dreamily.

  “He’s also the star of the basketball and baseball teams,” Lauren went on.